28. Logan

28

LOGAN

FBI agents Zoe Strauss and Eduardo Rodriguez requested any information we had on the Chosen Saints. We met their request with hostile silence. We exchanged looks, communicating without words, then gave them an answer they wouldn't like.

"We don't talk to feds," Mace said.

Tepid humor flickered in Strauss's hazel eyes. "I expected that answer. However, I'm afraid if you decline to provide us the information now, we'll simply find workarounds to make you later. Cooperate with our investigation or be prepared to face the consequences."

"Is that a threat?" Mace snapped.

"Take it however you would like to take it, Mr. Cutler."

Mace's top lip curled. "You know my name."

"I believe in doing research before walking into hostile environments."

"Then you should know you'll never get anywhere here, so no use in asking."

"That brings us back to the workarounds we're prepared to utilize. "

He took a step forward. "I'd like to see you try."

"Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot," interrupted her partner, Agent Rodriguez. He held up his hands as if it'd fix the tension circulating in the room. "We've come to your club because we're aware that you've become involved with the Chosen Saints. Our investigation into them is a nationwide endeavor. Texas is not the only location where they have been active."

"Cut the bullshit," I grunted. "You know it was me. I'm the connection."

Agent Strauss expelled a sigh that was condescending and exasperated all in one breath. She barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she said, "Yes, Mr. Cutler. We are aware you were in captivity at the hands of the Chosen Saints. However, we have reason to believe the cult has been targeting more than just you. Regardless, it would be in your best interest if you?—"

"We're not interested," I said. "Now get the fuck out of our bar."

"Suit yourself. But be aware, should you interfere with our investigation in any way, you will be held criminally responsible. Rodriguez." She nodded at him, signaling it was time to go.

The male agent gave us a judgy look of his own—the kind of disappointed shake of his head you'd receive from a parent growing up when you got a bad grade. He turned to follow her out of the club.

As they walked out, Ozzie was wandering in. Over the past fifteen minutes he had been at the Chop Shop with Cash, he'd managed to get himself covered in grease and motor oil. That didn't stop him from grinning and eye-fucking Agent Strauss as they passed each other up .

"Hey, beautiful. What are you doing all dressed up in a biker bar?" he whistled.

She arched a brow at him. "Move out of my way."

Ozzie being Ozzie, laughed . "Kidding. I'm a taken man. You're not my type anyway."

"That goes for both of us. Good day."

The agents left as abruptly as they'd shown up. The hostile energy they'd brought with them remained.

Ozzie scratched his shaved, tattooed head and shot a clueless look over at us. "What was that all about?"

Fast forward a few hours later, I stop by the apartment to find it empty. No surprise considering Teysha and the girls have their bachelorette party today. Unlike Mace and the guys, they had turned the occasion into an all-day, all-night event. Spa during daylight hours. Wine tasting in the evening and into the night.

I had encouraged Teysha to go. Getting out and spending time with the other ladies in the club was good for her. But damn if I don't miss her when coming home to an empty apartment.

I toss my keys on the kitchen counter and then open the fridge. Out of habit, my hand reaches for the can of Texas Brew before I stop myself then go for the jug of sweet tea instead.

Teysha prefers it when I don't drink much during the day and she likes that I've stopped smoking altogether. I've started taking into consideration these kinda things. I've begun thinking about how to make her happy. I've slowly come to realize that much of what she wants is good for me.

An improvement to my life .

She makes me a better person. A better man .

Not 'cuz she's trying to change me. Not 'cuz she doesn't like who I am. For some reason I still can't figure out, she does.

But being with her, around her, does the trick. It makes me want to live up to being the husband she deserves.

I swallow a couple gulps of sweet tea, then drop to the couch. I've got a missed voice message from Mick that I listen to.

"Not to alarm you, Ghost, but the girls were just at the bar getting ready to head out to their bachelorette thingamajigger, and I thought you'd want to know Teysha was a little under the weather. I found her in the basement throwing up a bit. Mandy was down there cackling like a loon so that might have something to do with it. Anyhow, figured you'd want to know about it. See ya tonight for Mace's get-together."

My jaw hardened with tension before I tamped down on my urge to go rushing off. I could track Teysha and the ladies down and demand she come home to recover.

I come to my senses a split second later. Another sign I'm changing. Growing .

Instead, I breathe out a steadying breath and send her a text to let her know she's on my mind. Her quick response confirms I've made the right decision. She's fine. She's with the other ladies, enjoying their bachelorette activities.

The same way I'll be with Mace and the others in a couple hours. We're throwing a party at the saloon to celebrate one of his last nights as a single man. He's requested no Tits on Heels, but I overheard Ozzie and Tito plotting earlier. The club girls will be there and likely causing a scene like they always do.

I drift off on the couch. My eyes close when it's about half past two in the afternoon and they don't open 'til it's well after five. Jerking awake, it takes a few drowsy seconds to understand what's happened. I dozed off.

I've got a crick in my neck and sleep lines on my face. If Teysha were here, she'd have giggled at the sight.

I get up off the sofa and go splash water on my face in the bathroom to finish waking myself up. Thankfully, there's leftovers from last night—she made some kind of creamy chicken casserole that's got green bits of vegetables in it but tastes fucking amazing. Even better when I warm it up in the oven.

To think I survived as long as I did off frozen burritos. I survived as long as I did off the slop I'd been force fed at the Chosen Saints compound for years.

Gruel and flimsy slices of bologna and whatever cheese they had on hand. More than once that cheese had mold on it. As desperate as many of us were, our stomachs aching from hunger, we'd scraped it off and ate it anyway.

People don't think about the kind of things they'd do in the most inhumane situations.

I finish up the meal courtesy of Teysha with a head full of thoughts about her. How much I'd rather be spending a cozy night at home watching TV with her than about to head out to this bachelor party.

I take my truck to the saloon just as the festivities are underway. The music's already booming a block away, and the Tits on Heels are offering body shots out of their belly buttons. Bush and Mudd are four beers deep. Johnny Flanagan' s as sour faced as ever, bitching and moaning at the bar counter to Mick, the only person patient enough to listen.

Mace is at a table with Cash and Silver, babysitting a bottle of beer that he's hardly touched.

"Look who finally shows up," Silver says.

I pull out a chair to crash down in. "You asshats are lucky I showed up at all."

Silver chuckles. "I told Mace the same thing. When you hit forty, you don't party like you used to."

"I seem to remember you and Tom would go all night," Cash says.

"That was years ago. Before the gray. Before the divorce."

"How's that working out?"

Silver busies himself with watching two club girls climb on top of a table to writhe to the hard rock music playing. "Better now. Not so good at first. The kids are adjusting."

"I meant you," Cash says. "How're you holding up?"

"You sure you want to talk about my divorce when Mace is getting married? It's his night."

Mace shrugs off the comment, finally drinking from his beer. He's been people-watching too, scanning the bar to take in the scene. "You know better than anyone, Silver, I don't give a fuck. I never needed some party to marry Syd."

"We really should be talking about Ghost."

The conversation swings in my direction. The others look over at me expectantly, like they're waiting on some sage words of wisdom or some shit. Some game changing piece of advice for Mace and Cash. I'm the only married man at the table.

My shoulders lift up in a half-interested shrug. "What the fuck do you expect me to say?"

"Tell us what you've learned." Cash smirks .

I think on it for a second, stroking my beard. I go with what first comes to mind. In a roundabout way, it's advice Mace gave that I've discovered firsthand to be true. "Make sure she understands she's wanted. That she's valued. Make her feel that way."

"Smart man," Silver adds. "Too bad Rachel and I stopped wanting each other."

More beers are passed around the table—Cash orders another coke instead—and, if possible, the music's dialed up even louder.

The party really kicks off.

The club girls dance on the bar counter. Different club members toss back shots and play rounds of poker. Cigarette and cigar smoke haze the air. A fight almost breaks out between Tate and Johnny Flanagan. Tate's got him by the front of his shirt before Silver gets in and talks him off the ledge like the fatherly figure he is for the club.

Ozzie shows up, announcing his arrival. "Who's ready to get this party crackin'?!"

Cash tries to hold off his laugh, but it winds up spilling out anyway. "Look around you, Oz. Everything's already in full swing."

"It ain't a party 'til DJ Ozzie Oz is in the house. What's this old school shit we've got playing? Time for something from the twenty-first century."

Mace and I share a he's incorrigible kind of shake of our heads, but neither of us expect anything different from Ozzie. He's the class clown of the MC for a reason.

A club girl wanders over to our table and yanks her top down to shake her titties. Her attention is solely on Mace, trying to draw his interest.

Ozzie slaps a hand to his back. "That's a nice rack."

"Syd's is better. "

"Damn. Hear that, gents? The man is a goner. He can't be tempted."

"You heard him," Mace snaps at the club girl. "I'm not interested. Get going."

Her bottom lip pokes out in a pout 'til Mudd swaggers over from behind, now on his eighth or ninth beer. He throws an arm around her and says, "Don't worry, darling. One man's trash is another man's treasure. Come on over to our table. We'll have some fun."

Cash laughs as they wander off. "At least it's not Sandy. She would've burst into tears."

Mace is far from amused. "Don't mention that chick around me. She was more than enough trouble."

"Last I heard, she is with the Hellrazors now."

"Good riddance."

I check my phone, barely listening to the commotion around me. The loud music and stench of liquor and smoke in the air only make me miss Teysha more. It's fucking pathetic in a way, but I can't deny how I'm feeling. I'd much rather be home with her right now.

The bachelor party drags on for another few hours. By midnight, I'm throwing in the towel. A few others are as well. Cash, Silver, and Big Eddie are with me as we cross the parking lot. Silver and Big Eddie reminisce about the past, where they'd once partied 'til dawn.

Cash is yawning, talking about how he's got to check in on Korine's mother.

None of us are ready for the gunfire that breaks out.

It drowns out the music booming from the saloon and upends everything about the night.

The revenge we've been waiting for is finally underway.